Just Another Teenage Drama
by MidnightAria
Summary: Life has left Namine broken. Rated for dark themes, violence and rape.
1. Chapter 1

Raven: Well... This is... different.

MA: Yeah... I was feeling... dark I guess.

Raven: Well, lets get on with it.

MA: I don't own nutin! So if you sue me, guess what... you get nutin!

Raven: rated for dark themes, violence and rape.

Just Another Teenage Drama-

Chapter One-

It's funny. Life, that is. I remember when it had been good, at least, I think it was good. I remember no yelling, no mistrust, I didn't even know the smell of alcohol and there was no pain. The five of us were happy. Me, Kairi, Mom, my stepdad and stepsister, Larxene. I don't remember my real dad, honestly, looking at things now I don't think he even was my real dad. I'm blonde and blue-eyed like my stepdad and stepsister, I don't even look like my older sister Kairi -maybe that's why she got taken and not me.

After lots of yelling Mom left. Left me with my stepdad. She took Kairi though, the only reason I could think of is because Kairi was more like her. Her red hair and bubbly personality, so unlike me, nothing to remind her of her old husband I guess. I was only eight, I didn't really understand much beyond my mom left me, took the only person who gave me any thought. It hurt, but I was used to being overlooked, left out. I was always quiet, I never wanted to bother anyone, worry anyone. I was fine being left alone with my crayons and paper.

When she left that's when my stepdad started hitting the alcohol… or maybe it was before, maybe that's why mom left. Maybe all the yelling before she left was from the alcohol. I don't really know. I don't like remembering things, it hurts too much to remember that life was different, was better, at least for a short time in my life. The somewhat nicer life I remember died quickly though, I remember THAT very well. My stepdad hit the bottles until he drank. He came home would yell at everything; me, Larxene, the house, the bills, everything. He kept drinking until he drank himself out of work, and then, out of life. He took off drunk one night and never came back. Larxene, who had just turned eighteen at the time, was called a few nights later, she left not even noticing me and returned only to seem surprised to see me sitting up for her. After staring at me a few moments she told me.

"Dad's dead." I don't know if she even cared. I wish I could say I did, but I don't remember.

There was a funeral, I remember half hoping that maybe mom would show up to take me back, but I wasn't surprised when she didn't. Not a lot of people showed up, a lot of dad's friends left when he drank himself rotten. Larxene's dealer did show up though. I remember the argument that took place over my head as I numbly stared at the other people who had attended and were quickly disappearing now that the funeral was all over. I don't know really what was said, nor did I care at the time. I found out later that she owed him money and couldn't pay. Stepdad hadn't really left us anything, enough to cover a funeral and move to a cheap as dirt apartment, but not much more.

The argument wasn't very entertaining; I'd had my fill of yelling a while back. And people-watching was getting dull. I had pulled on Larx's arm.

"Larx, can we go? I'm hungry." I mumbled. She didn't even turn as she smacked me over the head.

"Shut up brat." I winced, but it hadn't been a first so I didn't complain. I just let go of her arm and stared at the ground. If I hadn't I wonder if I would have noticed the dealer staring at me. I wonder if I hadn't tuned everything going on around me out if I would have heard my sister selling me out to her dealer. All I know is that he grabbed me by my arm and before I could react I was halfway to his car. Had I been a braver person maybe, just maybe I would have run away, kicked him and took off or something. I like to believe that there was a time that I was just too naïve to realize what was happening to me. I do know once we got to the seedy little motel down the street I did kick him as he tried to pull me down the sidewalk. It earned me a hard cuff upside the head and a fat lip. I struggled as long as I could, but I was a small, scrawny kid and had next to no muscle- it wasn't much of a struggle. Everything happened anyways and, as cliché as it sounds, the last caring part of me that I had died. I was twelve.

Four years have gone by and well… life hasn't improved by any stretch of the imagination. It doesn't help that even at sixteen I still look like a twelve-year old. Small, scrawny, pretty much flat chested, big innocent looking blue eyes- in short, pedophile's wet dream. I don't speak much, I try not to do anything really, other then survive. I stopped going to school a few months ago, it was awkward trying to explain my bruises and random absences to teachers, I had no friends- no one noticed me, no one cared. I suppose the teachers could have helped… but I guess in some part of my deranged mind I don't want my sister taken away. She's the only one who hasn't left me yet. I suppose that's only because I, in a sick way, provide her with an easy way to get drugs and money, but... she's there. She's family… and I guess that's all I really want.

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MA: Hmmm... I dunno if I like this... but, we'll see. I feel bad though, I honestly do like Larxene. I like her as a bitch, but a good bitch- like kick your ass for breaking some poor kids heart bitch, stop whining and get your shit together bitch... not evil bitch.

Raven: I'm sorry?... please R and R.


	2. Chapter 2

MA: OMG! I'm alive!

Raven: Finally… you realize it's been like what… over a year?

MA: . ahem… yeah… um… er… On with the story?

Chapter 2:

I laid on my side, curled as small as possible, on the edge of the bed. I'm naked and cold, but I've stopped noticing things like that a while back. The only covers are being used by someone else, I've never bothered remembering his name and he's never noticed, I don't dare wake him, out of fear of what may happen. If I'm lucky he'll only want to "play", if I'm not, he'll wake up angry. The drugs leaving his system making him irritable, unpredictable.

My eyes are focused on the alarm clock near my head, red numbers shining harshly in the gloom. I have an hour until I'm supposed to meet Larxene at the diner. I sigh quietly, wondering if I could sneak out now. He took quite a few hits last night, usually he sleeps pretty deeply afterward. I debate the risks of leaving before my stomach makes a growling noise. I decide that a chance at food is worth the risk, Larx doesn't meet me at the diner to feed me, it's just the most convenient and least suspicious place. She can stumble from "our" apartment to the diner, pick me up, and stop by one of her dealers on the way back. I slide out of bed as slowly and silently as possible. Picking up my clothes I feel the evidence of last night's activities, wincing as the dried fluids pull unpleasantly at my skin. I take the risk and wet a washcloth from the tap, being sure to keep the tap as low as possible to avoid noise. After wiping myself down I pull on my white dress, forgoing underwear- I honestly haven't owned a pair of proper underwear in years, after a while it just seemed pointless to have them. I take one last look in the mirror, finger-combing my hair so it has less of a bed head look, trying to ignore the too large eyes in an overly pale face, intense and at the same time empty, emotionless, surrounded by dark circles from not near enough sleep. My white dress, surprisingly clean this time, an ironic affection of mine. A way, I suppose, to fool myself into believing I was an innocent, that I was not used by family and just about everyone I'd ever met in my short life. I grab all the cash out of the man's wallet before leaving, he'll be pissed when he finds out, but it's only fifty bucks, something he can make up in five minutes flat dealing in some back ally nearby- probably from my sister. I slide silently out the door and slip away.

CHANGE POV-

Blood. It's beautiful, the deep crimson color, the sweet metallic scent, the slick feeling between my fingers. It calls to me, a sirens call to the beast in me. The main reason I fell into my calling. Feeling it spill over my hands, staining skin and clothes to pool on the floor. I pull my knife out slowly, only to plunge it back into the mans stomach, my free hand leaving bloody prints on his face while I cover his mouth, stifling his weak moans. His hand comes up and tries to push me away, blood loss making him weak and clumsy. His eyes unfocus and roll up into his head, while his legs collapse beneath him. I let him slide down the wall I had pushed him against, my face emotionless, betraying nothing. I breathe deeply, reveling in the enticing smell of blood in the air, before pulling out a dark cloth and clean the blood off my hands before wrapping the knife in the cloth and tucking both in an inside pocket of my black leather duster. I pull out a cigarette and light up before turning on my heel and leaving the alley, not looking back.

TBC

MA: BTW peoples, I'm not entirely sure which direction I want to take this in. I was gonna do something supernatural, vampires/werewolves/etc but with the whole Twilight craze I'm rethinking it, I might just make it a more real-to-life psycho killer kinda thing… so everyone's thoughts and/or opinions on the matter?


End file.
